In The Water's Grasp [Siren vs Owen Day 6]

[Kire]

siren baitwell

She had gone a different way than Leon and Erebus, an attempt to clear her head an decide what she wanted. Now that she had been alone for the past hours she realized that she didn't want to die, not with Leon, not because of Leon, not for Leon. It took her this long to realize that she didn't really love Leon, she was just intoxicated. Now that she had removed the poison and gone through her withdrawal - shaking and crying and shivering - it was clear that he wasn't what she really needed to get through. She had decided she wanted to live, live with Colgate, because of Colgate, for Colgate. And she would fight to make it happen.

The dawning day felt wrong, like it argued with her own senses of time and maybe it did. For all she knew, for all any of them knew - Leon, Erebus, the bitch from One, Ingrid, Potato, Sonja, and what's-his-face - the Gamemakers were pushing them forward in time to make everything end that much sooner. Still, maybe it was just the absence of Leon, of May, even of Jacinda - whose still body and frothing mouth lingered in her mind like it was burned there.

Had Colgate experienced things like this, was that the water that had shaped the stone that was his personality? Everything in here was eroding at her until she felt raw and cut. When she got out she knew she wouldn't be the same. It had to be "when" it couldn't be "if", "if" meant she had doubts, but she knew she had to get out. She would, there was no other way.

There was a sound in front of her, a shadow of a person fell across the ground by her feet and she reacted like a wild cat. Instead of drawing out the spear that she had used these many days she grabbed the hilts of her newest toys. The throwing axes felt natural in her hands, like they were guided there specifically for her. The jar of tar she had left sitting in her backpack since day one was pulled out and the top pulled off. Within seconds she was standing there, staring at her opponent through flames as the blades of her axes glowed.

They were not going to take her by surprise, they were not going to take her down, they were not going to take her life away. Colgate, are you watching? Not even stopping to consider where she was anymore, or who was in front of her, she took aim at the mass before her and threw her first axe.

Siren attacks OWEN
oGkU38_tthrowing axe
Broken Rib -- 7 damage

Siren lights four of her Throwing Axes on fire
1-50
Minor Burn (+2)

throwing axe�1-50

[Deleted]

owen bowers-fox

Sweat and the blood of Aelia Vanderwell caused my shirt to cling uncomfortably to my skin, and in the midst of my mindless stumbling out of the dark silver mine I debated on ripping it off in an effort to separate myself from every bad memory and damned goodbye that I had spoken over the last five days. I’ve said goodbye to Leon Krigel two times too many, and the unspoken salutation to Charlotte Brownings still hung in my mind as senseless regret and lost chances, her words still resounding in my mind, insults turned to comfort and hurt turned to relief as I longed to see her again, as beaten and broken as she might be.

I said goodbye to Cody and Duncan with a broken promise lingering in the back of my thoughts, and it cracked further and further each day as pain inflicted itself upon my body, from the shallow cuts of the buffalo to the deep gashes of the bats from the previous day, and somewhere between shaking steps towards a desperate escape and collapsing from complete exhaustion it finally snapped. They must know I’m not coming home, and I do too, now.

I suppose until now I had ignored it, pushing it away time after time in the same way the anthem pushed the stars from the sky each dreadful night and replaced the placid palette of darkness with a tale of loss and despair. Indeed tonight it did just that, and the dim twinkling of the stars was cut short by the blaring music that I had heard four nights in a row (the least they could do was give us a different tune to greet the reaper with, don’t you think?).

Two of the careers meet my gaze first, and slight relief floods through my veins, for I had seen them only momentarily, but each living second that they had graced my vision had caused new pangs of anxiety to filter through my veins with a heat that matched that of the afternoon sun. Proceeding them was the neutral face of Aelia Vanderwell, which didn’t seem fitting, for I had seen a range of emotions cross her face but a mutual expression had never been one of them. She was fear and unrelenting joy tied off with a wish that hadn’t been granted, and that deserved more than a blank stare and empty eyes.

I was surprised to see the face of Gavin Barker join Aelia’s, and a pang of sorrow pierced my heart as warm memories of conversing over breakfast crossed my mind, and I can think of nothing bad about him, only warm eyes and curly hair accompanying the few minutes we had together.

The last face to flash across the night sky is that of May Rhodes, and though I assumed regret and sorrow to take place in my heart, neither do, and I’m left with the empty feeling of something less than loss settling in my heart and digging deep until the anthem concludes, leaving me alone with the night sky and the gritty sand.

I don’t sleep. Not for a minute.

I toss and turn and stare at the sky but no form of self-consolation can bring sleep about and I’m left counting down the minutes to sunrise. I’ve spent a lot of time waiting for night to pass, so the feeling of silence hanging in the air isn’t new. I waited for Duncan, usually, to walk in at three or four in the morning and mumble as he crawled into bed, and only then would I drift off into sleep until Cody would wake me a few hours later.

I suppose this is the closet to home I’ll get.

The first glimpses of sun sending me scrambling to my feet and shoving my items into the worn out rucksack once again. I had emptied the sharper of the objects to the area by my feet, curling about the bag and using it as something to cling to and use as company, as Aelia nor Charlotte weren’t there to fulfill that purpose anymore.

Steps that had once been filled with purpose have dwindled into nothing short of misery, and each trudging step sends more sand into my boots. I’ve headed back in the same way Aelia and I had come in just twenty-four hours before, and though it seems we had stumbled upon the mine quickly, it now feels as if forever and then some has passed before I lose sight of it.

But eventually, like lost memories and useless promises, it fades into the distance, and I’m greeted by abandoned buildings that seem as though life had never touched them since their construction. In fact, the only thing that keeps this from being confirmed is the sight of the girl from four, whose meaning behind the name she wore matched her in more ways than one. A monster, a killer, a lure to fantasy, that’s all she was, really. If it bleeds, it dies, and though I’ve never been one for mythology or the tales it brought about, I was sure that the song of the siren didn’t make it immortal, so just as I could die with one blow, so could she.

She doesn’t say much, letting the flaming axe in her hand do the talking for her, and the contact it makes with my rib causes a broken scream to escape my lips, and I touch gently at the tinged and bleeding flesh. I wince as my finger grazes the surface, and take in a deep breath as I withdraw my hand, reaching behind me to pull the knives from my bag. They had killed May Rhodes; they could kill her too.

I’d like to let my weapons do the talking for me as well, but it doesn’t seem fitting, for it’s not polite to kill someone without even a word of acknowledgement. If it was anyone else, I would expect to feel sympathy, or sorrow even, but anger is the only thing that crosses my mind as I recall the harsh words she threw at Aelia Vanderwell.

“You don’t deserve to see the ocean.”

(Well you, Siren Baitwell, don’t deserve to see another day).

And though fear surges through my heart and overtakes adrenaline to the extent of rendering it useless, I pretend that we’re back in the desert, with Leon Krigel and Charlotte Brownings and Aelia Vanderwell, and I remember the state Siren was left in as she limped off.

“Had I known I would be running into you now, I would’ve just finished you off a few days ago. Shame on me, I suppose.”

[Owen receives jar of tar from sponsorship]
[Owen lights 4 of his throwing knives on fire]
[Owen Bowers-Fox attacks Siren Baitwell]
JMWXcrVYthrowing knife
[Severed Ear-- 8.0]

1-50
[+4?]

throwing knife�1-50

[Kire]

siren baitwell

She snarled like a beast at the boy in front of her, taking in his form and recognizing him in a wave of stormy anger. Her next axe was already in her hands as he threw his knife flew at her head. She felt it sear through her ear and heard the sizzle of her hair. There was nothing of the healer Siren, she was all mythical beast. It was time people stopped hearing her song and started minding her teeth and claws.

This boy, he was from Eight she thought, was not worth giving the time of day. She didn't care what her old companions had thought of him, he had just cut off her ear and he would pay for it in his own blood. Sneering at him was easy, her wide eyes and the blood dripping from where her ear had been changing her face into something even she wouldn't recognize. Her brothers were forgotten, Colgate was nestled in the corner of her mind like a safety blanket in case she needed him.

She might very well need him.

The boy spoke but she didn't give him the dignity of a reply. Instead, she took aim at him again, ready to avenge her missing ear - she had seen it fall, from the corner of her eye she had seen it fall. Colgate, if you're watching, I hope you understand.

And she threw.

Siren attacks OWEN
FPVcrRlrthrowing axe
Shallow Cut on Thigh -- 3.5 damage

Fire
1-50
Minor Burn +2

throwing axe�1-50

[Deleted]

owen bowers-fox

Broken boy in a glass body I feel the loose shards piercing my skin like death’s reminder. A call for the living loses its tone when the mind is no longer alive to answer it, and with bloody hands and an aching mind I do not make an attempt to dodge the fire that singes my skin like dry kindling. I am the art I left behind, the training center floor covered with a color I could not identify—a perfection I could not come to place with, for I was always one step behind my next mistake, only able to relate to the last moment I had lived.

And in the moment that Siren Baitwell lets axe fall and hope rise, I fall one step behind.

A fault not of my own I hold the handle of a knife tight between white knuckles, burning flame at the tip’s end I watch it line with the center of her forehead as we like silence linger like death’s hand above the both of us, shifting with the passing breeze and threatening to lay hold over either one of us.

I do not flinch when his shadow passes over my body, despite the shiver that runs down the length of my spine and leaves me holding tight to the physical aspects I can still lay name to. Axe handle, bloody wrists, Leon Krigel—his cannon hadn’t sounded. Lost in the five prior days our time spent together on the third had been my last encounter with that which I could not lay a hand to. Still, I hold tight to his name as if it is etched upon my skin by her axe, fire in a reminder—my heart is burning.

Until the kindling is gone the flames flicker on, and with skin still clinging to my bones and knife handle gripped tight between bloody hands, I will not burn out anytime soon. However, Siren Baitwell sings the same song and I’m left wondering what causes her heart to spark underneath the match.

I do not believe she has a heart to begin with.

Down the point of a knife I do not see her heart, only the space between her eyes and the flame that lingers in front of it. Blood of May Rhodes lingering where hers should be I see fire.

I see fire only because I do not wish to extinguish the flames.

[Owen Bowers-Fox attacks Siren Baitwell]
fQ4zSt5Lthrowing knife
[knife deep in neck-- 9.5]

1-50
[+2]

throwing knife�1-50

[Kire]

siren baitwell

When her axe clipped the boy's leg, leaving a mark too small, too shallow, and only the smallest mark of burning flesh - almost matching the scorched hole she had already made in his shirt - she retracted into herself some. In her mind she realized it was her lack of control that had caused her to not hit him hard enough, she refused to believe it had anything to do with his skill. At this point, after there were only eight of them left, she should have known that it was coming down to the wire, and that only the best of the best would be left. She was up against one of them but she refused to believe he could match her because she was a Career and he was some boy from Eight.

Then she remembered Colgate had been "some boy from Nine" until he killed five people in order to save himself and go home. She knew he hadn't done it for the glory, or for the chance to kill, she knew it wasn't the same Colgate that had held her had which had killed those people. Still, like herself the two sides were intertwined and like him she would never be able to part them. Right now, though, she didn't care. What mattered was that she would get home, to her brothers, to Colgate. She would get home.

The knife lodged in her neck and she stumbled, burning fury and tar scorching her attempt to calm herself. Surely a major artery was cut in her neck, but she couldn't feel anything over the burning. She should be screaming, she should be crying, she should be falling to the ground and clutching at her neck. Instead, she stood, transferred her next axe into her left hand, took aim. She would leave the knife in, let it slow the bleeding some. Besides, she had too much to pay attention to right now, a little blade sticking out of her throat was no big deal - she could still breathe after all.

But this boy wouldn't be able to, not after she was done with him.

Colgate, you understand, right?

Siren attacks Owen with 6 Tomahawks
4f6vpEIythrowing axe
Axe in Thigh -- 8 damage

1-50
Minor Burn +2

throwing axe�1-50

[Deleted]

owen bowers-fox

beware the thing (filler numero two)

[Owen attacks Siren Baitwell]
KNm_qmMgthrowing knife
[shallow cut on calf-- 3.5]

1-50
[extinguished lmao]

throwing knife�1-50

[Kire]

Age 13

She smiled as she looked at the trident, inspecting how the prongs had dug into the flesh of the dummy. It must have gone at least three inches in, potentially lethal. If she could refine her technique, grow stronger, and put more weight behind the blow, she might be able to truly drive the weapon deep into a person. Ray could do it, but Ray was fifteen, and he was stronger - one day she would catch up to him. Reef never even tried, so he was no competition. She wanted to be the best. She knew she could be the best.

Siren attacks Owen with 6 Tomahawks
AmXMI6YPthrowing axe
Bruised Leg -- 2 damage

1-50
Moderate Burn +4

throwing axe�1-50

[Deleted]

owen bowers-fox

already sick to the stomach so hey let's finish this

Owen attacks Siren Baitwell]
9gFmY5Vzthrowing knife
[Shallow Cut on Thigh-- 3.5]

[fire #2 lmao]
1-50
[+2]

throwing knife�1-50

[Kire]

Age 15

She panicked, searching desperately for any sign of Reef. Her skittish brother had gone missing and she didn't know how. While he normally gave some sign - intentional or not - of his leaving, this time he had vanished. She looked around, shook Ray until he confessed he didn't know, and finally went to go ask her mother. When she learned that Reef was with their father on his boat she nearly collapsed with relief. She knew he had always been drawn to boats but it was the first time he had completely skipped training, to go on one. That was fine with her, though. She would rather he be somewhere that gave him comfort. Let him find his place.

Siren attacks Owen with 6 Tomahawks
57kGsBrxthrowing axe
result

[Siren takes Owen's things]
[Siren uses First Aid on Self for -3]
[Siren uses Needle and Thread on Self for -5]
[Siren uses 5ft of Bandages on Self for -1]
[Siren used Medicinal Plants on self for -2]
[Siren drinks Full Canteen of Purified Water]
[Siren salutes Owen and leaves the body to be collected]throwing axe